


a new (temporary) eden

by horrifiant



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: 2nd person babey!, Cuddling, Eventual Romance, Gen, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Other, based . after the events of the canon ending, but nothing explicit yet ., genderless reader, i wrote with male in mind but literally nothing descriptive is mentioned fjghfghj, tiny bit stockholm syndromy i wont lie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:15:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27313213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horrifiant/pseuds/horrifiant
Summary: What was supposed to happen after the van crashed?Was bunker life with Joseph supposed to be so unnervingly normal?{non gendered deputy (you!) x joseph seed}
Relationships: Deputy | Judge/Joseph Seed, Joseph Seed/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 33





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> yo uh . im not religious anything mentioned is me 100% making it up . sorry if its wildly wrong
> 
> i also usually write everything in one go on like drive and then upload it all at once so sorry for any awkward time gaps !! thank u for reading being horny for this cult in 2020 is a sin enough i know
> 
> {{late late late edit but i made a far cry specific blog !! you can find me @mbp-50 on tumblr, thank you!!}}

The sting, that _unfamiliar_ sting, of cool metal digging into your wrists was a cruel comparison to the burning sensation that plagued your clothes mere hours before.   
Perhaps shock, perhaps fatigue, something was preventing you from acknowledging the full situation. Maybe your friends had survived? The friends you last saw, anyway. The voices of Pratt and Hudson screaming at each other from the back of the truck; overlapping chants of ‘ _he was right_ ’ and ‘ _we’re going to fucking die_ ’ still overwhelmed you, even sat in complete silence. Silence that only made you more aware of the cold floor seeping through your legs, the dread pooling in your stomach. 

This quiet room was not empty, despite the implication. It housed you, the dead body of the first man to rescue you, and the very alive body of the man who _thought_ he rescued you.

Joseph had been sat, somewhat reclined, on the seat above your chained-up self, simply basking in what looked to be self satisfaction. He never thought he was wrong, crazy even, but having the extra reassurance of being correct inflated his ego somewhat. A small pittance for having lost his entire family, maybe.   
  
You curved inwards on yourself, resting your forehead against the cuffs, searching for some form of relief on your overran brain, playing nothing but the loops of ‘Amazing Grace’ Joseph had hummed while carrying your nearly unconscious body into Dutch’s bunker. If it hadn’t plagued your dreams before, it would now.   
  
The gentle clink of movement was enough to disturb the thick blanket of _nothing_ that had been building for at least 2 hours now, you and the self proclaimed Father simply sat tight lipped. There was nothing to say. Everything he’d had to say, he’d told you already. His God-approved gloating that had already slipped your mind. Too many words to say ‘ _I told you so’_ , you thought.   
And you, that same fatigue lingering- the adrenaline of driving through literal bombs and watching civilians you’d helped previously burn, leaving your body- made your muscles ache and any semblance of conversation impossible.   
  
What do you say to a man whose family you’d killed? Killed for being _right_ ?   
  
There was no defence for all the suffering the Seeds had inflicted on others, culling to drugging, but knowing you yourself forced people out of bunkers to witness the end they were aptly warned about made your morals stew. The irony of you recruiting allies to die for your own revenge made Joseph cuffing you with the same handcuffs you had put on him all those months ago almost humorous.   
You were both at the top, watching people die for your own beliefs, all for the two of you to be the last ones alive. Together. For presumably, ever.   
  
You’d both loved and lost, as a direct result of each other.   
  
Joseph shut his eyes, shit eating grin still plastered across his bruised and bloodied face. A deep breath made his scarred chest rise and fall, not drawing your attention away from your makeshift headache relief.   
  
Pacifism was not something you could pretend to take seriously, not after slaughtering hundreds for fun and watching a family collapse. But you had no strength left to fight. Not him, anyway. The damage was done. Everyone’s gone. He was no longer a threat to the public, he physically couldn’t be. The only thing he could hurt now was you, and at this point you felt like you deserved it.   
  
The guilt you were harbouring kept you quiet, instead staring at the floor and tracing the outline of your sitting self. This was the same room Dutch chained you up in when this mess started. Same spot, same bed. An almost breathless laugh oddly fell out of you, the dust in your lungs making themselves known. You heard a shift from above, Joseph sitting upright and looking at you. Not to engage, but to observe. He’d spent months watching his siblings die at the hands of one person, not allowing himself to act on behalf of God. Nights of crying, mourning, desperate to avenge who he’d lost. Yet finally, his dedication paid off. 

_The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh_ , something he himself had practiced previously. How foolish of him to lose sight of faith so easily. God had not led him astray yet, why would he ever?   
  
Your face, murky with stray ashes and littered with blood similar to his own, was enough of a prize. Your tear stains visible, creating streaks in the dirt, parroting _Our Lady of Sorrows_ \- in Joseph’s eyes you resembled a biblical figure so effortlessly it stung. He knew not to be gluttonous, but he wished he could somehow _reap_ all of you in, every scar, gash, every ounce of pain you’ve ever felt- just to feel like a reckoning force. Just to understand _you_ , deeply.

By all means, this was his time now. His plan for the next 7 years- unbeknownst to you, of course- was to study every in and out of you possible. Become the wolf he thought you to be, maybe become stronger- or maybe just know _you_ , better.   
  
  



	2. two

This time, your cuffs clinking made you startle, jolting you awake. You tried to blink, eyes burnt red from being previously crushed by a smouldering tree. Joseph was still up, sat in the same place, simply staring at the wall opposite you. If you hadn’t already faced every horror you could’ve imagined, this would probably creep you out.    
  
There was no way to tell how much time had passed. The depth of the bunker meant for no outside noise either, leaving you unable to tell if the bombs had stopped at least. You were both trapped in what could be compared to purgatory, something you were sure if you said out loud you’d get some speech about blasphemy.    
  
Was this comforting? Being locked underground with the very man you swore to kill? Did he rescue you in some gratuitous display of forgiveness, or to eat you when you eventually ran out of food? You knew Jacob dabbled in cannibalism, it wasn’t off the holy itinerary.    
  
You groaned, an accidental reflex to stretching your back, the ache from being hunched into yourself making itself known. The noise made Joseph’s head snap towards you, the suddenness making you jump. 

‘’I don’t intend to keep you chained up forever.’’    
  
The Father’s voice almost pierced your ears, the hours of pure silence readjusting your hearing.    
All you could do was look at him, face mildly annoyed. Phrasing his capturing of you as if it’s your own fault for  _ misbehaving _ was not the push you needed right now. Jacob had proved to you you could go 5 days without food, while you knew Joseph wasn’t as brutal, you could afford a few mouthing offs and subsequent punishments if you felt particularly testy.    
  
‘’I’d like to be able to trust you enough to let you free. After all, we’ll be living together for a number of years.’’   
  
Not liking these words, your expression twisted. Saying ‘years’ out loud solidified that this was real, and you still hadn’t come to terms with that. 

‘’We’re family now, you should learn-’’   
  
You cut him off with a painful chesty laugh.    
  
‘’No, the absolute fuck, we are not.’’    
  
You expected retaliation, searching his face quizzically when nothing came. Joseph was staring back at you keenly, almost as if waiting for you to continue. 

‘’We are not family. We’re never gonna be family. Do that weird shit to your followers like  _ fuckin’  _ Faith but do not do that shit to me. I survived  _ because _ I’m not your family.’’ 

That last line came out more aggressive than you’d realised. And yet, it reigned true. Not one semblance of Joseph’s life that he’d described as family- wife, kid, brothers, ‘sisters’- had made it. Two of those were prior to your arrival, even.    
  
You watched him wince, teeth almost baring. 

‘’Do you know how easy it’d be for me to kill you, child?’’   
  
The blunt nature of the sentence snapped another laugh out of you, almost a snort. 

‘’Would you? Would you carry me out a fiery truck and down some stairs to kill me there instead of letting ‘divine punishment’ interfere? Which one would that be- pride? Gluttony?’’   
  
You knew, you could see the heat rising in his face, bleeding cheeks only redder, how much he wanted you to pay for what you’d done. Regardless of what he believed, even if he was chosen as God’s messenger, he himself was still only human. If he gave in and killed you, he’d have to recarve a sin into his beaten body, ultimately letting you win once more.    
  
‘’God may-’’   
  
‘’God would make an exception? Just for you?’’   
  
‘’If he thought th-’’   
  
‘’Can I get that in written form?’’   
  
The slamming of a can against the steel bed frame wiped the smile off your face, Joseph exhaling deeply.

‘’ _ Stop interrupting me _ .’’ he growled in warning.    
  


Looking back down at your cuffs, you quietened. By no means whatsoever did you intend to befriend this shell of a man, but you knew the only way to survive the next eternity was to at least not be at each other's throats for no reason other than you could.   
  
You let your eyes simmer up to meet his again, the closest he was getting to an apology from you. 

‘’I did not say I would kill you. I do not intend to do anything more than forgive, and guide you towards salvation. The road will be rough, but I think our time together here might just be enough to cleanse you of all your sins.’’   
  
Biting your tongue, literally and figuratively, you continued to stare him down. No atonement will be found here, you knew that. Maybe he’d learn that from you.

Joseph stood, tattoos glistening against the bunker fluorescents, illuminating the deep purples of bruises smattered along his frame. You wondered if he knew the map of the bunker, including Dutch’s red room littered with notes and photos of the Seeds. He looked you up and down then left, footsteps not straying far from the bedroom.    
  
You took the time to glance at that all too familiar flag on the wall. It hadn’t so much as shifted since you were last here, on the floor, ziptied to the same bed frame. Dutch’s body had been removed from the room, to your relief. Technically speaking, he harbingered the whole downfall, but he still took you in when he could’ve given you up. Everyone’s eventual safety was due to his actions, and now, like the others….   
  
You shut your eyes. You’d have an eternity to think about this. No worth thinking about it now. 

Returning footsteps caught your attention, the sloshing of liquid also perking you up. Joseph had a bowl, and a towel. You shuffled back slightly as he knelt in front of you, violating that personal space of yours, which you’d noticed he very much enjoyed doing. He dipped the towel into the clear liquid, ringing gently while he resumed his hymn humming.    
  
All you thought to do was watch. There was an equal chance of him waterboarding you as there were him cleaning you up, so you thought it best to remain unspoken. Your eyes followed his methodical hands, instinctively closing upon feeling the lukewarm towel against your sensitive burnt face. You braced yourself to wince, able to still feel sore scratches on your cheeks from the whole ordeal even without the added texture of fabric brushing against it.    
  
With the stinging not as painful as anticipated, your eyes opened once more to the white cloth smeared with black, the tinge of burning stagnant in the air being replaced with the smell of stale water.    
  
Joseph was being much nicer than you had expected him to be with this, not using the opportunity to be heavy handed but to almost be genuinely caring. His face was focused, eyes lingering on tough spots of dried blood across your forehead and cheekbones, occasionally redipping the towel into the water as you watched the dirt dissipate into the clean bowl.    
  
It was the touching of your bottom lip that made you flinch, alarm bells sounding in your head. The reality was you’d bitten your lip hard during the crash, and you could still taste the iron pooled in the crevices, but that didn’t stop the panic of something vaguely intimate being inflicted by a cult leader surging through you.    
Your flinch made Joseph stop, hand hovering over your mouth, his eyes burning holes into yours. Instinctively you averted your gaze, swallowing hard in an attempt to not let the fluster show through. He pressed the cloth down again, wet against your chapped lips a relief, yet still an discomfort. The idea of being a grown adult chained to a floor while a half-naked man calling himself a Father cleaned your lips was not an idea you wanted to keep, let alone live through. 

You ran your tongue over your lip, trying to absorb even some moisture for your dry throat, still abstaining from meeting Joseph’s look while he dabbed at the rest of your wounds. 

Once finished, Joseph sank the towel in the now murky water, wringing once more before wiping his own face- a lot less delicately- of the bloody remains on his features. You took note of his prioritisation of your hygiene, and dismissal of his own. He’d always seemed clean to you, from your previous limited encounters. John had also been clean, but he lacked humanity. The youngest brother would never do anything like this for anyone but himself. 

‘’Cleanliness is next to Godliness…’’ you muttered, mostly to yourself.    
  
Joseph cracked a smile, letting the cloth sit on the edge of the basin. 

‘’Although wise, not a Bible quote.’’

Your eyebrows furrowed. 

‘’Really?’’ 

Joseph nodded, leaning back on his heels and finally distancing himself normally from you.    
Since the beginning, everything you’d done in attempt to bastardize the Father had been an intimacy. Knowing the firm grip you had on his bare shoulder in the crisp 3 am air of your first night in Hope County would lead to his cupping of your chin in the helicopter crash that followed, to him tending to your ailments like a carer, almost felt like a natural progression. It had always been you; as Jacob told you over and over. 

Sickness washed over you, the beads of water against your skin running cold. All you were was a prophecy foretold.

What else could Joseph do but care for his prized horse?

In your crisis, you hadn’t noticed the man leave with the bucket. Your hair, hung heavy with ash, tickled your forehead. No amount of rubbing with cloth would truly wash away at the trauma you carried from today alone. No coos of hymns, prayers, could fix what you’d witnessed. 

A  _ click _ , the click, of cuffs hitting the ground forced you back to reality, Joseph’s busy hands again working to free you from his own inflicted shackles.    
For the first time, you didn’t know what your next move was. Nowhere left in your body was strength to fight, and even if there was- what would be gained?    
  
‘’You must be tired,’’ he mellowed. ‘’We should sleep next-door, there are two beds there.’’ 

Expecting privacy now was foolish, and you could feel the exhaustion make your head heavy. At least it wasn’t the floor.    
Your hands searched for the wall, trying to pull yourself up- legs trembling from unuse. Joseph guided you to the room opposite, as you once did to him, indicating you to the bed at the very corner against the wall. This way, you couldn’t leave without passing Joseph.    
  
His bed was next to yours, divider curtain on the other side of the room once being homed between them. There was barely an arm’s length between each pillow, which only made you mildly uncomfortable. 

Regardless, you let the tiredness reign and threw yourself onto the unstable frame, feeling the sting of your curved spine jolt through you. Your palms met your eyes, letting the darkness flood and calm against the pulsing of the fluorescents hanging from the ceiling.    
Joseph sat himself down on his bed, facing your side, arms rested against his thighs. It was evident both of you were rightfully exhausted from a lifetime of fight, but finally you could rest. 

Before you inadvertently drifted to sleep, you heard the mumblings of prayer from the cot to your right, ending in a hush, ‘ _ Goodnight, my child _ ’.


	3. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit: omg why did no one tell me i accidentally uploaded the same chapter twice!! im so sorry heres actual chapter 3 reinstated

Coughing woke you this time, the dehydration making itself known to your sore throat. Your eyes were heavy, sleep disturbed and angry about it.    
In your best attempt to readjust to the bunker lighting, you squinted to make out the form in front of you- Joseph laying opposite your bed- wide eyes glistening, and watching you.    
  
The jolt of fear that surged through you made your heart leap out your chest, almost forming a scream, but not quite. 

‘’ _ What the fuck is wrong with you? _ ’’ You managed to breathe out, propping yourself up on your elbows and staring in disbelief mixed with horror at the Father.

‘’I don’t know what you mean.’’ Joseph slid himself up against the wall to sit upward, dragging his hands down his face. 

‘’Don’t fucking tell me you sleep with your eyes open or something weird like that.’’

‘’No. Sleep and I are not friends, child.’’

You and sleep  _ were _ friends, and you were mildly infuriated by being interrupted for a heart attack. The buzzing of the infirmary lights seemed deafening in comparison to the quiet words between you.

‘’Better befriend it. You’re not staring me out every night. It’ll freak me out. I’m not losing sleep over you.’’   
  
That last sentence felt foreign on your tongue, the implication he was anything more than a simple inconvenience, an enemy, weighing on your morals.

‘’I lost plenty of sleep over you.’’

  
You found yourself staring at the ceiling at his words, not daring to make eye contact. 

‘’I spent hours awake, waiting to hear of my siblings’ demise. Each call like an arrow through the heart.’’

You sighed, trying to not sound as dismissive as you felt, letting your head fall back on your pillow with your arms strewn at your sides. 

‘’We can do this later. We have an eternity to do this. Please, sleep.’’

Joseph didn’t resettle, holding his own hands on his lap and facing forwards. 

‘’You’re right. Apologies.’’

Heavy eyes shutting, you heard the unmistakable shuffling of sheets from beside you, the widowed leader trying to replicate comfort upon the fragile bed. He knew not to complain, the rights of surviving an apocalypse with food, water and a place to sleep surpassing luxury. It wasn’t the cold cot that was the culprit in his inability to sleep, either- this had been the norm for months, years even. Nothing in his life imitated normal after his wife passed. His fixation on chasing judgement, unknowingly preparing for you, did not allow for a sleep schedule. Paranoia and righteousness a hindrance in the night. 

You had drifted again, prioritising sleep in your life. Sleep was the only time you could not be conscious to the anxieties and guilt that weighed on you daily, and you needed it now more than ever.

\---

A lamp fizzed out above your beds, awaking you from a full rest this time. The sound warbled against the glass panes, reaching the fuse and silencing. You took a deep breath, pulling yourself up and pausing to look at Joseph.   
  
Asleep; at last. Mouth ever so slightly agape, possibly to compensate for the broken nose you supplied him with the day before. His hair, you noticed, had loosened from its bun- falling much shorter than you’d expected, tossed in curls against his pillow. Never have you been so relieved to see someone’s eyes closed. 

You stood, quietly walking past the bed and out the room, constantly checking behind you, expecting Joseph to manifest out of thin air. It’d be most convenient to get the obscenities out the way while you could, without the supervision of your sleeping  _ youth camp _ counsellor.    
  
It took walking down both halls, past the blue illuminated room with the fishtank-  _ remind yourself to feed those _ \- to find the bathroom, a dimly lit army green walled cubicle with a single toilet, sink, and showerhead, but you weren’t about to complain. Much to your reassurance, the door locked from the inside. No surprises guaranteed. 

Turning on the water made for some very disgruntled sounds from the pipes deep in the walls, the violent hiss of cold water against the floor tiles making you involuntarily shudder. Cold showers were never something to get used to, but the opportunity to wash the death out of your skin was not one to pass off.    
You showered, scent of soap the first pleasantry you’d experienced in a while.   
  
Once as clean as water would allow, you threw on one of Dutch’s shirts and cargo pants from his bedroom locker, the familiar sight being bittersweet. The clothes ran big on your frame, but you were happy to prioritise comfort for a change.    
  
Making your way back to the infirmary, you felt a twinge of dread, as if Joseph would condemn you for leaving his side unannounced. Passing the armoury made you stop, staring at the key on the table past the cracked open door. You reached in, locking the door from the outside and hiding the key on your person. There was no reason to distrust Joseph, you just felt safer knowing it was inaccessible to him. 

He was sitting upright, as per your last discussion, when you returned to the room. Twiddling his thumbs, loose curled hair falling almost delicately on his cheek. You cautioned, walking back over to your bed to perch yourself on.    
  


‘’You uh, got some sleep then..?’’ you heeded. 

‘’Perhaps it is time we cross through your mark of  _ Wrath _ , child.’’

You flinched. The deep burn of John’s heavy handed tattoo needle still ached amongst your skin months later. You’d rather it remained untouched for the rest of time than relive that pain ever again, even if it meant ridding of the original branding.   
  
‘’Yeah, I’m good. Come near me with a knife and I will gut you like a fish.’’

Joseph… chuckled? A foreign tune to your ears, letting you hear the weight against his chest- likely from the same inhalation of ashes you’d been subjected to.    
  
‘’Perhaps, not yet.’’   
  
Nodding, you leant back against the brick wall, keeping your eyes on the Father.

‘’Why do you keep your hair up so tight? It’s not good for your hairline.’’   
  
The subtle dig made the corner of his mouth upturn.   
  
‘’I value function over fashion, child. One cannot lead with blurred sight.’’   
  
‘’You could just cut it. Especially now.’’   
  
Joseph shook his head slightly, almost emphasising the sway of his hair.

‘’I need not alter what God gave me.’’

‘’You have tattoos.’’

‘’Those are additions, not alterations.’’

‘’You know you can just say you like your hair, right?’’   
  
He quietened, leading you to let out a laugh. 

‘’I think you’ve overcomplicated your life a bit. I feel like a lot of what’s happened could’ve been avoided if you uh, toned it down. Mildly.’’   
  
Joseph raised his head, turning to look at you with genuine interest, the hair framing his cheekbones giving you a new perspective.   
  
‘’I’d like to know how you would approach being chosen. The sacrifices you’d make.’’

‘’Maybe we can discuss it another time.’’


	4. four

The food situation was the newest issue amongst the two of you. Once you’d managed to get past the initial weirdness of… coexisting together, Joseph rarely leaving you alone within the rooms of the bunker- reason unbeknownst to you.    
  
This had been relatively navigational up until the prospect of hunger was brought up. Joseph hadn’t been particularly fond of delectables in any form, but the argument of starting with canned fruit versus the savoury tins had sent you both into a rather stupid frenzy. 

‘’I think I  _ deserve  _ something sweet. You know you absolutely cannot deny me something sweet.’’

‘’That isn’t a meal, child.’’

‘’It’s food. It’s better than nothing. Gimme the damn peaches.’’

Joseph held up the can of golden goodness, both of you sat cross legged on the floor of the blue-illuminated room of Dutch’s former bunker.    
  
‘’Give it. I will bludgeon you to death with this can of beans.’’   
  
A half scoff came from the cult leader, only raising the can further out of your reach.

‘’Gluttony is not attractive to God, child. Eat the warm food.’’

Purely instinctual, maybe out of missing playing  _ piggy in the middle _ with Hurk and Sharky, you lunged at Joseph, both hands aimed for the tin of fruit that was only slightly out your reach.

You’d never felt regret so quickly before- not even after that time Grace told you very adamantly to not go near that skunk.    
You’d missed, quite evidently, landing with both arms over his shoulders, your palms on the floor behind him. The horror washed over you, essentially pinning down a man you swore to hate. Freezing was a new experience; your body stiffened at the image of the Father underneath you.    
  
His hand reaching to cup your face made you snap back into reality, the unusual warmth of his thumb rested on your cheek with calloused fingers reaching the back of your neck pooling against your rough skin. What you could only describe as a whimper got caught in your throat, unable to break contact with his intense blue eyes. Nausea made itself known in the pit of your stomach.    
  
You’d gone so long without human contact in general- apocalypse aside- something in you told you to stay, while the rest of your brain sufficiently screamed at you to get as far away as possible.    
  


To your better judgement you managed to pull back, immediately forgoing the can and trying to put some distance between you both. You picked up the initial tin of beans you held, now cradling it in your lap. Your skin tingled where he’d touched you, only adding insult to injury.    
Joseph propped himself back upright in the corner of your vision, remaining silent for your sake. He placed the fruit next to you delicately, keeping a wary eye on your facial expression. To say he cherished your cracks showing through would be gluttonous, albeit true.    
  
_ Fuck _ . At what point do you pretend the man you’re locked in a confined space with isn’t evil? Enough to justify getting handsy with? Are victims usually aware of Stockholm syndrome or are you just a bad person?   
It felt _ sinful _ , taking all your former allies’ deaths for granted. Nowhere did you want to acknowledge the cult was correct with their fear mongering, but your non-believing had solidified their demise.   
Joseph’s forgiving nature had only made your conscience feel worse. You felt as if you deserved to suffer; you deserved his unbridled rage as a result of all you’d done. Though, that rage never came.    
  
Perhaps this was your punishment. 

The former leader meanwhile had now registered that you were touch-starved. This was information he would use against you in his plight to convert you to his side. Nowhere in his preaching did he personally prefer the use of violence, but that did not mean he wasn’t as nasty as could be.    
  
Faith was often considered the least offensive of the Seeds, though her manipulation captured many more than Jacob’s manhunts ever could.    
  
Dread still very much coursing through your veins, you fixated on opening the can. Standing to pour the contents into the bowl centred in Dutch’s microwave, you hit the button and stared at the orange light inside.    
  
‘’We don’t have to talk about it.’’   
  
‘’Then don’t.’’   
  
‘’Just know, any predispositions you have about contact are yours alone. We are all deserving of love.’’   
  
Something about the implication anything Joseph could inflict on you could be seen as love made you seethe. Something about you considering it made you sick. Getting indoctrinated now after losing everyone you loved because of a kind touch would be a new low for you.    
  


You hit the button again, noticeably harder, ejecting the microwave door before the timer hit zero, the burn from grabbing the scorching bowl not phasing you.    
Grabbing a fork off the table, you shoved the bowl down in front of Joseph and wiped your palms down your face in frustration. 

  
‘’Just eat the fucking food.’’

Joseph carefully picked up the bowl, placing it in your vicinity. 

‘’I don’t need to eat, not as much as you do.’’   
  
He was skinnier than you were, his unclothed torso serving as a reminder. You leant your temple against your hand to sigh, elbow rested on your crossed knee.    
  
‘’I don’t want it.’’   
  
‘’I’m not letting you waste food, child.’’   
  
‘’Then eat it yourself.’’

‘’Continue to behave like a brat and I will spoonfeed you like one.’’   
  
The look you shot him was marinated in dirt. You grabbed the bowl once more and ate its contents disgruntled, pretending you didn’t just annihilate the roof of your mouth. You desperately wanted to spit it back out at him, but knew proving his accusations correct would not be something worth entertaining.    
  
‘’Good. Was that so hard?’’

His words were antagonistic, though his tone favoured playful territory. Now it was evident to you he was very much reeling from how flustered he made you with one hand alone. You  _ had _ noticed the  _ pride _ carved into his back was not crossed out. 

  
This must’ve been punishment.    
  
Joseph stood, packing the tins back into the cupboard- save for your peaches. His dedication to not wearing a shirt had started to dwell on you, the bunker air not exactly being warm. Supposedly it wasn’t essential, though when it was just the two of you with a heap of clothes available, you suspected it was a conscious choice.    
  
The fading on his tattoos prompted you to look down at yours, John’s etching of Wrath stung so deep the black never settled. Each sibling had marked you with something deep; John’s sin, Jacob’s conditioning, and Faith had provided you with an almost detrimental intolerance to Bliss. It was Joseph’s turn to delve deep into your psyche.    
  
You pulled yourself to your feet, immediately turning towards the hallway. It had taken sleeping in the infirmary the first night to notice the closed door next to the bedroom, containing two bunk beds. Since finding two fully plushed beds, you’d relocated there.    
  
You’d also claimed bottom bunk out of exhaustion and ease alone. Joseph had a hard time staying in the bed next to yours, itching to take the top bunk of yours instead. Right now, you’d retreated within the steel frame to sulk. 

Sighing, you sat back against the brick wall, letting the cold soothe the back of your head. Joseph’s voice startled you. 

‘’I left your fruit on the table.’’   
  
Not being in the mood to talk to him, you nodded once. The body language you were channeling with your arms folded was intentionally unapproachable, though you probably looked more like a kid having a tantrum.    
The ladder to the upper bunk prevented Joseph from sitting next to you, though his immediate scraping of a stool to sit directly opposite you made you cringe. Now you couldn’t leave, either.   
  
‘’I remember playing games with my brothers, once upon a time.’’   
  
You eyed him up from your lowered gaze.   
  
‘’They were never fair, with John being so much younger than us. I don’t know what I’d do if I wasn’t able to share comforts with my family.’’   
  
Whether this was supposed to be a reassurance or a guilt trip, you couldn’t tell.    
  
His quiet hands settling on your knees made alarms blare in your head, your limbs momentarily disconnecting from your brain being the only thing stopping you from shooting upright and slamming your forehead against the steel bars.   
  
‘’We all, need love. You never need any excuses around me.’’

In case your manic, wide eyed stare wasn’t enough, you made extra effort to remain as inhumanely still as you could. Joseph took the hint, leaning back on the stool and standing to leave.    
You could feel your knees burn. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright i wrote every chapter in a frenzy over the course of like a week so . for now . it ends here . i have a Terrible track record but hopefully ill add eventually !


	5. five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i got a really nice comment and panicked and immediately wrote a new chapter out of guilt. thank u.

A couple days had since passed, the unnerving threat of being in purgatory successfully weaving its way into your brain. The trauma you’d lived through hadn’t prepared you for the eerie silence that played on your mind. Save for the digital clocks, there was no way to know what time of day it was; the bunker being an endless space of its own.    
  
You’d craved so badly to open the giant bunker hatch, just to peek at something. But, you knew deep in yourself that you wouldn’t like the answer, regardless of what it was.    
  
In total it hadn’t been long, under a week perhaps. Being able to stay sedimentary for such a length of time was a bizarre new experience, paranoid your bones would suddenly fuse together from disuse. Sleeping in, with no need to get up during the day- or the next- in comparison with being ran over by accident by your own former friends once you’d left the safehouse for the day, was jarring. You missed the context, not necessarily the action.    
  
Joseph had retained the same, not faltering once. He’d very slightly improved at giving you your own space, no longer hovering over you whenever you left from room to room. So far, the conversation about the locked weapons room hadn’t come up either, but it wasn’t a stretch to assume he knew you had the key.    
  
Only twice had you woken up with Joseph in the bunk above yours instead of adjacent in his own. You weren’t sure what the preference was rooted in, though you were starting to take it personally.    
  
Otherwise, you were sat on the low sofa in Dutch’s blue illuminated room, staring at the fish in the fishtank. They had no fucking idea what was going on. They just swam loops every single day, threat of nuclear annihilation not remotely phasing them.    
You wondered if wishing to be a fish was a new low point for you or not.

_ He _ walked past you, glancing at your tucked-up form leaning on the side of the seat. 

‘’The Devil finds work for idle hands, child.’’

You groaned at the interruption, sighing and turning your head to him.

‘’What could there possibly be to do right now? Do you ever just- stop?’’

Joseph shook his head, locking his hands together and stretching his forearms forward. 

‘’ _ Sloth  _ is still a sin.’’

You pursed your lips, looking back at the fishtank.

‘’I’ve already got one. It’s Wrath. That’s enough for me.’’

‘’Then don’t let yourself succumb to sloth.’’   
  
Standing, you folded your arms, heavy sleeves of Dutch’s cardigan gathering at your wrists.    
Joseph gestured for you to go ahead of him, hushing you back into the hallway. His hand rested, gentle but firm, on your shoulder, something you no longer flinched at.    
  
You both stood in the doorway of the main bedroom, your burnt and bloodied clothes still sprawled across the cold floor.

‘’I’ll get you a basin.’’

Sighing again, you knelt, collecting the articles. You stopped to stare at the gleam of your sheriff’s badge, tiny scratches littered across its surface. This identity meant nothing anymore; not in this world.

Joseph returned as promised, bucket of warm soapy water swirling in his grasp. You nodded a thanks, relocating yourself to sit on Dutch’s bed, bowl on your lap.    
For a moment, you just stared at the bubbles.    
  
Soaking your shirt in the liquid, you expected to hear a  _ sizzle f _ rom the burnt fraying, nothing coming. You struggled with the tough fabric, scrubbing a particularly  _ crimson _ spot with your knuckles. 

‘’Joseph?’’

It felt foreign- calling his name at all, let alone for the tiniest of inconvenience. You caught your tongue between your teeth the second you spoke, damage already done.    
  
‘’Yes, child?’’

Rubbing your temples as not to make eye contact, you took a deep breath.

‘’Can you uh, get me a brush or something? I can’t get this bit.’’

He rolled around the doorframe out of sight, coming back as per your request with a heavy looking, albeit clean, boot brush. 

‘’It’ll have to do.’’

Joseph stood, directly in front of you, leaning down to carefully free your fingers of the fabric, scrubbing himself at the shirt. You swallowed, throat bobbing, that proximity again being unnecessary. Your eyes laid on his abdomen- standing at your exact eyeline- taking note of the scars and blonde hairs that seeped down from his navel.    
  
His carving of  _ Lust  _ had that familiar pink casing associated with most scars, his skin still threatening red around each letter. Out of every sin laid deep into his webbing,  _ Lust _ was the eldest, laid bare by the healing process. Your eyes wandered over to the left, reading his faded ‘ _ Come and See _ ’ but stopping on the angry, botched sewn cut above it.    
  
The ripples in his abs made the gash more aggressive looking than it may have been, but your hand absentmindedly reached, running your digits very meticulously over each stitch.    
Sudden silence, the scrubbing sound ceasing, alerted you to what you were doing, pulling your hand back to hover over the bowl and blinking up at the preacher in mild panic. 

Joseph ever-so-gently cupped your inquisitive hand, cold from the water, placing it back where it was against his side, retracing the scar with you. 

‘’These serve as reminders of the punishments that exist in this world.’’   
  
He led your hand over his ‘’ _ John 1:9 _ ’’ tattoo, located below another, healed, scar. 

‘’ _ If we confess our sins, he is faithful and righteous to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. _ ’’

You… nodded? Bible quotes not being something you ever planned to understand.    
While his small touchings; leaving his palm on your knee, your arm, had become normal-  _ as close to normal as you could’ve expected _ \- the explicit hand guiding was new.    
  
Daring not to pursue further, you quickly snapped your head back to your lap, finding it harder and harder to will yourself to break eye contact with his frightening blues.    
You took the brush, continuing to scour at your former uniform as a distraction. 

Joseph rather uncharacteristically placed himself next to you on the single bed, naked shoulder touching your own. He watched, silent, admiring the pale veins in your wrists as you moved. 

Dissipating slowly, brown turned to red, then to orange, as the stain lifted as best it could from the fibres. The water turned, transparent now murky, holding onto your clothes with its weight.    
  
You found yourself glancing to your side at the _ Father, _ almost as if to ask permission to leave, the thought making you grind your teeth. Quickly, you shuffled out of the room, emptying the basin in the nearest sink and soaking your clothes in fresh water.   
  
You had returned, as he had to you, standing in the doorway of the bedroom and staring at him as if he’d done something to your train of thought. Each passing day made you more acutely aware that you’d both have to come back to each other, the bunker having no room to hide privacy and secrets. 

-

After another vile meal, Joseph having previously told you criticizing food was sinful, you let the dull pain brewing in your head get the better of you, retreating to your own bed in defeat. The days felt long, although averaged 7 or so hours before you sought after sleep.    
  
Hyperventilating woke you. Your eyes suddenly shot open, chest deeply knotted as if you were drowning. Sweat clinging to your forehead froze in the air, your legs trembling uncontrollably.    
You immediately snapped upright, lump in your throat causing you to swallow repeatedly.    
  
Warm, worryingly warm hands met your cheeks, grounding you- if only momentarily. Forcing yourself to look forward, Joseph was crouched at the side of your bed, expression concerned, yet confident.    
  
‘’ _ Shh _ , you’re safe. It’s alright, my child.’’   
  
If you were functioning past your fight or flight, you’d regret finding his words reassuring, but your erratic heartbeat pounding your ribcage craved calm. Your wide eyes fixated on his, still shining in the dark of the bunker.    
  
He slid closer, edging onto the mattress, letting his hands leave your face to instead rest a palm against the back of your damp hair, leading you to press your forehead against his shoulder.    
Your skin, slick with sweat, unpleasantly stuck against his unclothed form, but the slow and quiet rhythm of his own heart soothed you, leading by example.    
  
‘’I’m here for you, always.’’   
  
The words vibrated against his chest, your breathing eventually slowing. Your eyes shut as he very tenderly rocked you, his other arm wrapping around your back to hold you closer. 

You tried shaking your head, accidentally nuzzling against him, hesitantly pulling back.

‘’I’m, fine.’’ you breathed.

Joseph did not let go of you, not trusting your tired eyes as you searched for a reason for this outburst. 

‘’You are clearly not fine.’’

His finger delicately met your cheekbone, unsticking wild hairs from your temples.   
Exhaustion doubled itself as the adrenaline fled from you, wanting desperately to pass out in his grip.

You halfheartedly shook him off, letting your head hit your pillow again, pulling the quilt up to your neck. 

‘’ _ Just _ , go back to sleep. It doesn’t matter.’’   
  


Your eyes were already closed, trying to push every anxiety down and force yourself back to sleep. Joseph didn’t leave, planting himself on the steel floor once more and keeping his hand on your upper arm, keeping a watchful eye on you. 

-

When you awoke again, genuinely, your bleary eyes opened to Joseph’s head rested sideways on your mattress, asleep, arm still warm over yours. 


	6. six

The nights following were rough. Most makeshift ‘mornings’ were spent woken up in sweat, exhausting the shower water tank already. Your reflection, be it from the ever inconsistent sway of the bathroom lightbulb, looked sallow- the heavy, reddening bags under your eyes being the nearest  _ vibrance _ from your tired skin.    
  
It’d felt wrong to acknowledge Joseph’s round-the-clock care for you, the sight of him cross-legged on the floor next to your pillow becoming far more common than you’d have liked.    
Being seen as a liability was already one of your biggest fears, and this sudden panic disorder was not welcome to your pride.   
To you, being self aware of the traumatic experience you’d gone through should’ve been enough to halt your body’s panic response. You knew deeply of what caused these night terrors, and yet that changed nothing of your brain’s comprehension of it.    
And  _ every time  _ you watched Joseph work around the bunker, rising to retiring, not once breaking his calm composition- you grew frustrated. Frustrated with him, frustrated with yourself--  _ Frustrated _ .   
  
You’d already once awoken to what looked like the  _ Father  _ sparing a prayer for you, the unmistakable glisten of those rosary beads that bore marks against his fingers keeping you angrily fixated in the bunker’s dark.  
  
This worried you. Letting Joseph _ in _ at all, especially from a place of vulnerability, was exactly what you’d watched countless of his followers die from. That pure desperation for comfort that led to mindless sacrifices was the same desperation that made you lean further into his gentle touch at night; searching for any relief to quiet the fire that burnt through your chest all too familiarly.   
  
Hypocrisy teased at your psyche as you miserably crunched on the dry cereal you’d found in the cupboard. Some diversity in food texture was a welcomed luxury you hadn’t ever thought you’d need. Joseph, meanwhile, found a way to keep permanently busy; the only times he stilled being to pray or to keep watch of you at night.    
Every article of clothing to ever grace the bunker had been washed, including the bed linen. Rinsing away the  _ ghost _ of civilisation for the same, almost  _ sickly _ , smell of soap made you strangely upset, and your new found paranoia kept you overthinking the simplest of gestures.   
  
_ Perhaps _ ; he made away with all references to previous life as a way to break you, to trick you into feeling isolated.  _ Perhaps _ he did it to help you- rid of the reminders that fuelled your current anxiety.  _ Perhaps _ , no thought went into the action at all, keeping himself busy to keep his own fears at bay.   
  
_ Perhaps _ , --  
  
crunch .   
  
Joseph stopped opposite you,  _ observing _ you shovel unpleasant fistfuls of cereal into your mouth. He reached across the low table, carefully removing the cardboard box from your lap and closing the tab.   
  
‘’You’ll give yourself heartburn.’’  
  
You rubbed at your eyes, fighting the yawn that tensed your jaw.   
  
‘’Not exactly an eighth wonder. I think I can handle it.’’  
  
A seemingly disappointed head shake from him made you exhale a laugh from your nose.   
  
‘’Please; enlighten me on how my unhealthy lifestyle is fucking with my brainwaves or whatever. Let me guess-  _ yoga _ ?’’  
  
He watched you patiently, as he always did. It made your blood boil.    
The silence; the  _ opportunity _ for you to lash out, reminded you all too much of your time as a teen, being questioned by school counsellors with that same fake sympathy written across their faces.  _ Patronising _ .    
Pure exhaustion coursed through you. The mixture of high school memories and current tragedies, with a hefty dose of no sleep, made that intrusive dry  _ prickle  _ at the back of your throat flare, the threat of tears to follow.    
  
The last thing you were going to do as an adult was cry in front of someone else.   
  
You rose, finding your footing and making your way back to the bedroom. This was becoming routine, almost.    
Burying yourself under the thin covers of your duvet, you stared up at the bunk above you- counting every tiny hole in the thatched frame until you drifted off, taking whatever inkling of sleep you could get.   
  


\------

  
You woke up dehydrated, as you’d expected from the gross cereal, not long after you’d settled into your bed. Glancing at the small battery LED clock you’d both decided to move to the bedroom to feign some semblance of normal, you managed just over an hour of shut eye before that panicked nausea crept back up your stomach. Better than nothing.  
  
Not bothering to wear the unusually loud slippers you’d claimed in the first week- definitely a stolen pair of hotel complements- you let the cold floor soothe the permanent bubbling heat in your nervous limbs.   
Using this new found silence to skate through the hall undisturbed, you stopped abruptly at the sound of whispering just before the entrance to the living area.   
  
Peering ever so carefully around the doorframe, you saw Joseph’s scarred and naked back in a kneel against the couch you spent all your time on.   
  
‘’Give me- _us_ , give _us_ strength. This has not been easy for any being, but how can you expect the non-believers to fair under such extremes? I am not giving up on this lost child; I hope you aren’t either.’’  
  
His tone was hushed, yet unmistakably stern. Of all the previous prayers you’d heard, none had been so accusatory- especially not on your behalf. You took careful steps back, retreating to the red room at the end of the hall so as to not disturb him.   
  
It took entering to notice that none of you had spent much time in this room, the map and ticket stubs along with random photos strewn across the walls being too painful of a reminder for either of you. Your hands trailed carefully over the ‘conspiracy’ corkboard on the left wall; letting your digits follow each string to their apt Seed.   
It felt… insulting, leaving Dutch’s written notes on how insane each sibling was up, and you allowed yourself to unpin each stickynote, compiling them neatly, before tucking them to the side of Dutch’s desk.   
  
Now the board looked like a shrine. You frowned at the implication, but stepped back to admire your meddling. It was bizarre; feeling that same pang of loss you felt for your friends towards a family that weren’t yours.   
The fleeting shadow on the floor made you snap your head up to the doorway.   
  
There Joseph stood, face blank and hard to read under the red light.   
  
‘’Did you get any sleep?’’  
  
You nodded, nervously leaning against the table behind you.   
  
‘’About an hour.’’  
  
He returned your awkward nod, walking forwards to look at your makeshift memorial.   
  
‘’You should talk to them. They’re very bored where they are.’’  
  
The thought of being looked down upon by a troupe of people you’d killed made you _uncomfortable_. You had already spent countless nights wide awake up in the Whitetails, hallucinating those first few notes to _Only You_ ; you didn’t need to know it was very possible you’d be haunted by the same individuals you hunted for so long.   
  
‘’I think I’m the last person they’d want to hear from.’’   
  
‘’Do not underestimate them. Can you name one person each of them kept close by while they were alive?’’  
  
You couldn’t. It hadn’t quite occurred to you how lonely their existences were. Not until you had to live with Joseph, anyway.  
  
‘’I’ll… keep them in mind.’’  
  
Turning on your heel, you went to leave the red soaked room- a cold palm reaching your cheek making you stop abruptly.   
  
‘’You need not pretend to be okay, child.’’  
  
Joseph looked _through_ you, tenderly stroking your cheek with his thumb. Maybe the light had a subliminal effect, or maybe he was truly seeing past your eyes; the reflection of his own pupils shining a bright white.  
  
Your own hand covered his, weakly holding onto his wrist. Something about the overwhelming silence after the sudden weight of his words, the scattered sleeping pattern, _the way he looked past your surface defence mechanisms_ \- it was all building to be too much.   
  
A difficult swallow and a soft whimper came from you, hesitantly nuzzling your face into his grasp. Your eyebrows furrowed against your will as the burning hint of tears watered your eyeline again. He cooed quietly, guiding the back of your head to the crook of his neck, where you buried your face without much thought.   
His hand in your hair massaged carefully at your roots, the other snaked tight around the small of your back, lightly rocking the two of you back and forth.   
  
You were so adamant on not _giving in_ , but you couldn’t fight it- searching so frantically for the smallest of comforts in your desolate scenario. So fixated on the warmth around your lower back, you hadn’t noticed your own traitorous arms wrap around his torso, scared fingers nearly digging into his skin.  
  
 _Ease. Relief_. The closeness of another person; that _wanted_ feeling had been adrift from you for so long; having it back made you want to drown in it. You didn’t care who it was anymore- the heaviness of your eyelids trying so hopelessly to catch up on lost sleep took centre stage, Joseph taking notice of your body going slack.  
  
‘’Come, child.’’  
  
Saying nothing, all you could do was let him lead both your entwined forms back to the bunks, keeping a tired eye on the way he laid you down on your seemingly cursed mattress.   
  
His palms reached for yours, gripping both hands with his own. You tugged them towards you.  
  
‘’I can’t join you. I am not that small.’’  
  
You wanted to laugh, wanted to push him away and not let your emotions take over, but most triumphantly you wanted to sleep in someone’s arms. This level of tiredness was not one you’d experienced in a long time, and you couldn’t afford to care about how many knocks to your pride it took to get rid of it.  
  
Sighing, Joseph looked around for a moment- settling his gaze on the bunk bed adjacent to yours. A mumble; _this is not going to work_ , came quietly from the man as he let go of your hands and stood, beginning to drag the other bunk next to your own.  
  
The scraping noise was not pleasant. You stayed put, staring once again at the tiny holes that lined the frame above you, pretending not to notice the garish sound of the other bed screeching against the floor.   
Glancing to your right, the small nudge of both mattresses matching up to one another made you instinctively smile a little.   
  
Clearly proud of his work, Joseph crawled into his side of the now double bed- the issue of you being locked in against the wall one for another time.   
He shuffled along the fabric, as close as he could to you, letting you roll into place on top of his outstretched arm, immediately pulling you into his chest and returning his fingers to trace circles along your hairline.   
  
Finally, you simply basked. For the first time in days, you felt your locked-up limbs melt into the loose muscles they were supposed to be, letting the overall tension fade through the mattress.   
Head against his chest, you counted his heartbeat in fives- letting the pattern stabilise your own pulse. He hummed, content, and you exhaled pure stress.   
By no means did you expect all your problems to magically cease, but you were relieved to spend at least one night with no significant meltdowns.   
  
That tingle of your eyelids closing that you’d craved for so long made its gradual return, and you fell into a genuine sleep; tucked under the covers with your _bunkmat_ _e_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heugh god sorry this was. im experiencing like every health problem under the sun rn fjgfg so everything feels disjointed n bad sorry 
> 
> i made a fc5 specific tumblr !! idk what ill use it for (currently just. modded screenshot uploads) but come hang out there if u want !!! it's @mbp-50 !
> 
> thank u again for bein patient and reading !!


	7. seven

Why you couldn’t bring yourself to  _ look _ at Joseph the days following, you didn’t quite know.    
Eye contact was out of the question; your conversations steering to an altogether halt, lest your throat form anything other than bile. 

Being grateful for the rest you needed so desperately hadn’t lasted long either, with your brain being back in commission and only serving to guilt trip you.    
Once you’d slept enough for your body to work again, your thoughts were occupied with the same apprehensions you’d experienced on your first days locked in together. Part of you selfishly missed being too tired to be paranoid.    
_ He _ , not swinging so violently into moods like you did, acknowledged the return of your anxiety and took a step back, not trying to initiate smalltalk or even lending a hand to your skin while you stared wildly at walls, and other blank surfaces.   
  
Truthfully; you wished you could abandon your morals so easily.  _ Asking for help _ was something you were stubborn enough to struggle with, let alone severing all ties with your pride-- even if it would ultimately improve your quality of life. 

And it was eating you up inside. You were tired still, not from insomnia but from yourself and your impossible standards. The time you had spent locked in the bathroom, weeping as silently as you could against the tiled floor, had only been alarmingly increasing- your eyes permanently red rung and wet.    
  
You had actually just pulled yourself off said floor after another  _ session _ , using more effort than you should’ve needed to to grip the porcelain of the sink. Your reflection remained unkind; the state of your inflamed skin resembling an allergy outbreak. Bothering less and less to cover for your not so hidden misery, you splashed your warm cheeks with cold water and blew your nose, turning to swing the bathroom door open.    
  
Joseph almost blended into the furniture, his worried expression following you as you walked straight past him and back to bed. Unbeknownst to you; your guilt was contagious.   
  
The Father had watched you spiral- eating habits falling below what they should’ve been, sleeping either an hour or 20 at a time, not leaving the bedroom at all on some days-- he watched you  _ deteriorate _ rather than trust him, and his own faith had begun to waiver.    
  
He waited; waited until you’d forcibly put yourself back to sleep, and resumed his doting place on the steel ground, cross legged and keeping an eye on you. 

\---

Your existence had been divided into time awake and time unconscious, favouring the latter at the expense of your thoughts.    
Opening your heavy eyes to Joseph’s intense face staring at you made you jump, and gave you a strange sense of dejavu, though your newfound sluggish demeanor kept you firmly unmoving- remaining under the covers with your cheek squished unflatteringly against the pillow.   
  


‘’Did I do this to you?’’

Not letting you so much as force a sound from your own throat, he spoke first- his voice fragile. You blinked at his words, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. 

‘’...  _ What? _ ’’

You didn’t expect your voice to be as hoarse as it was, wincing at the croak. 

Joseph sighed deeply, fighting the instinctive urge to hold onto your hands while he talked.

‘’Have I done this to you? Have I made you this miserable?’’

The nature of the questioning caught you off guard, sitting upright in bed and looking down at him quizzically. Perhaps spending too long searching for an answer; the  _ correct  _ answer, you shook your head no- still hesitant.

‘’No, no. You’ve… done all you could in this scenario. It’s just me and the way I, uh. Handle things.’’

He nodded, slowly and cautiously, his hand resting  _ next to _ your thigh; the struggle of not consoling you very visible. 

_ Why did he look so hurt? More importantly, why did it make your own chest tighten? _   
You felt your own arm betray you, resting your hand atop his and feeling the warmth of his fingers immediately curling around your own, tight. 

‘’I don’t want to hurt you, child. I don’t want you to be, hurt.’’ His other hand curved around your knee. ‘’I’m trying to be there for you, but you make it.... very difficult.’’ 

Staring at the floor, you murmured, thinking in silence. 

‘’I can’t let you in.’’

Joseph looked up at you, stroking his thumb over your knuckles and waiting patiently for you to elaborate. 

‘’My consciousness won’t let you in. I think too much and I panic and I--’’

Your sudden stirring made him cup both your cheeks to still you, forcing you to look at him for the first time in days. 

‘’Guilt speaks over us; _ for  _ us. You need to look past the surface, and listen to your true self.’’

The sweetness of his words were nauseating. 

You wanted to respond, instead observing the way he was knelt at your side, looking up at you with such devotion as if you were an altar to pray to, the realisation that you truly were all he had left dawning on you slowly.    
  
Fear made you want to collapse inwards. Curl up in a ball and decompose. Instead, you did possibly the worst thing you could’ve done- look into his eyes.    
The way they locked onto yours, not shifting, with his palms still firm at the sides of your neck to cradle your jaw, made your breathing shake.

‘’What do  _ you _ , want, child?’’

‘’I… want to stop crying.’’

His lips tugged into a smile, the shine of his teeth making you instinctively mirror him, returning the expression for the first time.

Joseph froze. The way your tired eyes creased ever so slightly made him stare at you blankly, his mouth faintly agape.   
You noticed, blinking down at him.

‘’What’s…wrong?’’

‘’I’ve never seen you smile before.’’

He let his hands drop to where they were before, intertwining his fingers with yours and freeing your face to let you shy away at the bold statement.

‘’It suits you. You should allow yourself to be happy more often.’’

You automatically smiled wider, chuckling quietly out of embarrassment and trying to bury your face in your shoulder. 

His hands, still not settling, snaked up to clamp your own together, holding you both in prayer.

‘’Please allow yourself to be happier.’’

Looking into his eyes again, tracing over the shimmer in his blues, taking the real time to rake over each and every fine detail written on his face; every eyelash, every beauty mark, the way his lips hid behind his facial hair- your thoughts ceased. True calm, washed over you. 

‘’Okay.’’

  
\---

  
  
Walking back into the bedroom after grabbing something to eat, you stopped and looked at your bed- the frame pushed once again to the side of Joseph’s.   
  
You covered your mouth, and laughed to yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy holidays everyone ! sorry this is short and took so long lol


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